Last Sunday I passed my practical test for the Sport Pilot certificate. And what an eye opener it was. To be honest, I had no idea what to expect and, on top of that, I had managed, very methodically, during the few months leading up to that day, to work myself into somewhat of a tizzy about The Event. It didn’t help that I imagined that all FAA examiners were big, scary I’m-going-to-make-your-life-miserable monsters. Or that I knew that my brain had been dulled by an education system in which multiple-choice testing was the standard. The thought of a one-on-one oral test was knee-shaking — I couldn’t help but wonder if my brain would hold up under pressure. There’s so much information to learn and know about flying, he/she could ask me anything … practically!
These fears, I realized, were ultimately of my own creation, thanks in some part to my psychosomatic fallibilities — and in part to the fact that because of this Great Unknown I had fashioned, failure could be a possibility. My friends and colleagues reassured me that it would OK if I had to do it over. And I am a big believer that even with failure you can win big with lessons learned. But somehow I don’t think I would have taken it so well in this case. I had invested a lot of time and heart into this and knew that the investment wouldn’t be ending any time soon, God willing. In a word, I was committed to the lifelong success of this relationship I had renewed with aviation. That investment and commitment (not to mention the training!) alone should have been enough reassurance for me to know that I could overcome any monsters.
